


Choosing to be here in this body holding me

by GucciRhymesWithDucky



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GucciRhymesWithDucky/pseuds/GucciRhymesWithDucky
Summary: Genji learns his body all over again.
Relationships: Genji Shimada/Tekhartha Zenyatta
Kudos: 32





	Choosing to be here in this body holding me

**Author's Note:**

> For "100 words of wireplay." Title is from Parabola by Tool.

To Zenyatta, the gifts of this body—this cage which had only ever been a site of suffering for Genji—were so obvious. One by one, he opened them; opened him, plate by plate, and stroked the inside of him, where copper and silicon coiled around and darted through his spine, his ribs, the cavities filled with machinery where organs used to be. Genji burned with the shame of it, the desperation to conceal it, until Zenyatta's fingertips crackled along wires lining vertebrae and Genji forgot what shame meant. His head spun in a kaleidoscope; colors spilled on his tongue and whispered in his ears. Suns were born and died in his eyes.

Genji was a young man again, exploring a pretty girl's body, exploring his own body for the first time—and his body was so much _more_ than he could have begun to fathom. He felt astral. Zenyatta's other hand had reached around to stroke off his cock; it was, at this point, perfunctory. Genji surprised himself to catch it by the wrist and push him away. And Zenyatta _stopped._ Like being punched—how could he just— _stop?_

"Is something wrong, my student?"

He rattled with shuddering and his fans ran hot. "Please, I n-need—" He should be frightened by the sound of his voice, pitching and jittering with static. He wasn't. "—more. Please, master. Touch m-my—I—"

Zenyatta's cool fingers touched Genji's burning cheek. He had this way of humming his smiles—Genji would even forgive him that smug little rising note. "I understand." Zenyatta took both hands to Genji's open body, and Genji melted anew. Zenyatta had such deft hands, flautist's hands. Genji had never thought about that until now—until they played the metal of Genji for their concerto, and taught the recesses of his mouth the shape of stars.


End file.
